Her Second Chance
by Confusing Cat
Summary: All hope was lost, the world was a barren wasteland. Dumbledore sent Hermione back in time to prevent try and prevent the dismal outcome from occuring. After a year in the past she finds herself back in her right time, except, everything is different. AU


A/N: Well, as you see, I've actually started on an actual story, rather than just doing oneshots. (yay! I've evolved! ;D) Anyways, I warn you that this chapter, and this story will be slightly (very) confusing, but, there's no need to rush, so just read it as many times as you need to understand it. ;)

Anyways, yes, this fic does say Hermione/Harry, and they will exist as a couple (eventually), but I've also decided to through in Voldemort/Hermione into the mix as well(yay! ^.^). How he'll be added in though, you'll just have to wait and see. }:D  
>Either way, last point to take up, I don't know how often I'll be updating, seeing as my muse (and I) are very tempramental, and at some point I will feel like throwing this story out the window, and it might take me some time to get my motivation back. However, I am promising you that this story will get finished, and, as the Joker so aptly puts it <em>I'm a man of my word <em>(well, women really, but you get my drift.)

Any questions about anything, just send me a mail! ^.^

_Now onto the Disclaimer_: I do not own the freaking Harry Potter series, though I, like millions of others, ultimately wish we do, and really, anything you might recognize I don't own. (and if I _have _accidently stolen an idea about something from someone else, I'll tell you now that it was _completely_ unintentional, and I apologize profusely)

_And finally, on with the show!_

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><p>She was back.<p>

How strange, she mused, it was to be back in her own time. The cars, the neon lights, the clothes, the people. It all felt foreign to her now. The fact that things had been altered because of her little rendez-vous into the past didn't help the feeling of alienation either.

One of the major differences in her mind was the fact that mostly everyone was still alive. No eerie green skulls lit the night. No screams of terror could be heard on the wind. The muggles hadn't tried to kill the wizarding kind out of fear, only with the result of them killing themselves.  
>Interesting, she had mused back then, about how wizards and witches where immune to radiation.<p>

And yet, the biggest difference of all, was that _Lord Voldemort_ hadn't won.

Simply put, the world _now_ wasn't the barren wasteland that she had left behind.

A hand on her arm woke her up from her thoughts, and also effectively stopped her from walking out into traffic. She quietly thanked the man who's arm had prevented an accident, and waited patiently for the green light.

As it where, Hermione was in her way to her parent's house, which was hopefully still the Victorian two-story home that she had grown up in, in her own time.

Walking down the familiar neighborhood, a couple of blocks from her destination, she couldn't help but be grateful that most things still seemed to be like they where _before_ Voldemort had taken over in her other time-line.

When she had first returned, she had immediately put a glamour on, unsure of who was currently in charge of the wizarding world, and proceeded to find out everything she could about this new time she was in. After all, seeing as at this point in time, her own world had been destroyed.  
>Other than the obvious normality of the world, she needed to know what was going on.<p>

During her time as a blonde witch from France, newly graduated from Beauxbaton's (her cover story), she found out that yes, Voldemort was still at large, yes, Harry Potter was still the Boy-Who-Lived, yes, she was still disliked by the Daily Prophet, which more importantly proved that the Golden Trio still existed in this time like it had in the last, and that really everything had occurred here in approximately the same way as in her original time, excluding the end of the world as we know it scenario.

However, there where still a few marked differences. For example, the most disturbing one being that of the death of Albus Dumbledore.

In her time-line, Dumbledore had been alive and well, even if in he was in hiding (they all where), by what should have been the end of her sixth year, which, according to the newspaper, was about the time that this Dumbledore had died. Her Dumbledore had even lived a few months past that, and was twinkling away at anyone and everyone up until the point in which he sent her back in time.  
>Her task had been to, as a seventh year, try and persuade little first year Tom Riddle on to the straight and narrow. Ironically she had been sorted into Slytherin, which made the task somewhat easier. However, Tom Riddle was no gullible child, and it had taken her two months to get him to trust her enough for her to become a sort of mentor, and friend, to him. After she had broken through his defences, she had found that the boy was quite enjoyable to be around. He had a quick mind, and absorbed anything and everything that she said. He had what some people might call an old soul as well, as he was very mature for his age, making him that much more pleasurable to be around, a sort of kindred soul. He was much like herself at that age, she would sometimes muse too.<p>

And yet, there where periods where she could sense the darkness he held within, could glimpse the person that he would, maybe, become in the future, and those glimpses had made her all the more determined to prove to him that not everyone was bad, that blood purity was a load of bull, and most importantly, not to fear death. Simply put, she was trying desperately to create the opposite opinions in the young, _impressionable_ Tom, as compared to what Voldemort thought and believed in. Obviously she had failed in some aspects, Voldemort still existed here after all. And yet, seeing as the world didn't resemble a burnt out coal, she took it as a slight victory as well.

And now that she was back, she had wanted to tell Dumbledore of the half success. But he was dead, so now she was on her own.

Really, she wouldn't of known about his death at all to begin with, and would've taken her planned trip to Hogwarts a couple of days later, if it weren't for the front page of the Daily Prophet and it's glaring headlines, stating that the burial of the deceased Headmaster of Hogwarts was to be held the next day.

The news of his death had thrown a wrench into her carefully thought out plans, and she had been left with two problems. The first being that she now had no reliable source of information about this time-line, and two, she had to somehow get in to that funeral, being, obviously, held on Hogwarts grounds.  
>However, being the smartest witch of her age, her glamoured self could be found the next day sitting in a corner towards the back, close to the exits. This time though, she wasn't pretending to be french, as there were plenty of student's from Beauxbaton who could easily call her bluff, she had instead given herself mousy brown hair and nondescript facial features. But it had almost seemed as if her glamour wouldn't have been needed, seeing as she, and practically everyone else in the courtyard, had been practically falling asleep because of the long and drawn out speeches being held by ministry officials about Dumbledore's greatness, and of what a loss the wizarding world had experienced.<p>

Her original reason for attending had been sentimental. After all, he was one of the few in this time-line that knew the real her, and seeing as she wasn't desperate enough to go to Tom for comfort, she settled with the funeral. The other reason however was more practical. The funeral was the perfect place to see who was still alive and kicking within the Order, and hopefully, if anything, to see Harry again. And Ronald too, of course.

However, before the wedding, she had felt slight reluctance in seeing the youngest Weasley boy again, as he had been a major factor to the Light's loss in her original time-line. As it where, Ronald had been a spy for Lord Voldemort during there first, and last, months in their sixth year, before everything had gone to kingdom come. She had been extremely surprised by his actions as well. Not by the fact that he was a death eater, no, but because he had been able to hide it so well, from bother Harry _and_ her.

Harry, however, had taken the treason badly, often during a rant comparing Ronald to Pettigrew, as well asoccasionally falling into a depression. She and Dumbledore had tried to be supportive, but with the massive amount of deaths occurring every day as well, he had snapped, and committed suicide by using _sectumsempra_, effectively taking away any chance of defeating Voldemort with him.

He bled out long before anyone found him.

Staring at the boys from her seat in the back, she had desperately hoped that this Ronald was true to the Order, and that this Harry was stronger than her own.

Walking up to the coffin, which was weirdly clear as crystal, she noticed how peaceful he looked, even in death. One could even say that he was smiling. Perhaps he was. Perhaps he really was enjoying the next great adventure, as he had so casually called death in those last few months. The thought made her smile, but when she caught sight of his hand, the smile froze, and she knew immediately what had transpired on the night of his death, even though the newspaper's had given away no details at all.

In her time-line, she had been privy to many pieces of private information regarding certain things within the Order, as they had needed her for researching, seeing as most of the other Order members where off on different tasks or the other. Anyways, because Dumbledore had trusted her so, she had been informed about the plans that the Headmaster had made for the coming year. So, effectively, she had known about Malfoy's mission to kill Dumbledore, she had known about the Unbreakable vow that Professor Snape had made with Narcissa Malfoy, and also about the one that the Professor had made with Dumbledore. She had also been privy to the fact that at the beginning of the school year, the Headmaster had been dying, because of a spreading curse in his hand. She was also told how Dumbledore had required this curse, by one of Lord Voldemort's horcruxes, and was then burdened by all the information, or lack of it, of all of The Dark Lord's horcruxes. She had been tasked with finding out more about the horcruxes, preferably on what objects they where most likely to be, and to, if she had time, try to find a cure to the Headmaster's cursed hand.

In her time-line, she and Professor Snape and succeeded in finding the cure to the hand, effectively saving the Headmaster's life, but, unfortunately, she had not found much on which objects Voldemort had contained parts of his soul in.

Obviously the Hermione of this time hadn't been involved with any research to the old wizards help, and she silently wondered why. Maybe it had been the consequences of sending her back in time. She had remembered the rules and warnings well because of the use of a time-turner in her third year, the number one warning being; Terrible things happen to wizards that meddle with time. And seeing as the world didn't resemble a nightmare, she could safely state that sending her back in time had definitely messed with the time-line.

Or maybe the reason why she didn't do research was because she was simply too blonde to do it. She had shuddered at the notion, and had willed the thought to disappear and to never return.

Returning to her current surroundings from the thoughts of the past, she realized that she within sight of her house, and breathed a sigh in relief when it looked the same as ever. Off-white walls, but with a bright red front door that broke the theme of the Victorian look that the house had. When she was six her mother had one day complained about the outside of the house being too bland, too boring, and that the house needed some color. It had annoyed Hermione so much, because it was disrupting her from a good book, that the next morning, the door was a bright fire-engine red. Obviously, it had been Hermione's doing, but they hadn't known that. However, her mother had liked it, and Hermione had happily continued reading in peace, non the wiser of her magical abilities. _Yet._

But now, now she was standing in front of said red door, studying it really, trying to stave of the meeting with her "_parents"_ as long as possible, unsure of how her parents would greet her, and a bit guilty about the task she must perform on them.

She had heard at the gathering after Dumbledore's funeral, that this time's Hermione had been missing for a couple of days, and they had feared that Voldemort had captured her. Her counterpart had disappeared on the same day as she had reappeared, and she obviously put two and two together.

Therefore, it was not without nerves, and a little bit of guilt for what has happened, and what she must do, that Hermione opened the door and yelled, "I'm home!"

"In here, luv!" Her mother called from the kitchen. Good, Hermione thought as she made her way towards her mother's voice, at least they aren't panicking. Maybe this was premeditated.

Rounding the corner, Hermione was all of a sudden overwhelmed by emotion. Her mother was standing there, baking, just like she had in her own time-line. Only, her mother had died in her fifth year, and until her trip through time, she had never thought that she would see this again.

"Hi mum", she said smiling, though there was a bittersweet look in her eyes. Miranda Granger, as impeccably observant as her daughter, caught the look in Hermione's eye, and quickly went over to sweep her in to a hug, wondering silently what was wrong.

"What a surprise!" Her mother said with a large smile, trying to dissipate the look in Hermione's eyes, "You said that you'd be with the Weasley's for the rest of the summer, like last year" Hermione flinched at that, masking it by sitting down at the marble counter. Apparently she was more fond of the Weasley's here then of those in the other time.

"No, no, I will be, it's just that-, just that-, well, I have something important to discuss with you and Dad," Might as well get it done and over with, she thought, whilst still trying to memorize every moment together with her mother. After all, who knew when she would see them again, now that she had a second chance.

She had to make sure they where safe this time around.

"Oh, well" her mother's smile dimming slightly, than brightening again when an idea hit her, "Why don't you help me make dinner. It's been a long time since we've done that." she said while still smiling at Hermione. _Long time indeed_, Hermione thought. But, getting up from her stool, she went over to the cutting board that was already set up, washing her hands as well, and started cutting the vegetables, her potions skills coming into use. Humming slightly, Hermione embraced the comfortable atmosphere in the kitchen, with her mother fixing the meat, the potatoes on the stove, everything seemed normal for a second, and she felt very tempted to simply stay here, and forget all about her problems in the wizarding world. Yet, she thought sadly, I have an obligation, a mission, to protect my parent's now that they are alive. And to keep them alive, I need to send them far away, somewhere where I can't follow.

Her thoughts must have been reflecting on her face, as her mother asked her what was wrong.

"Nothing," Hermione answered, quickly coming up with something else, she continued. "I've just realized how much I've missed you over the years." It was true though, too. She had missed her parent's for years, and the thought didn't help her melancholy mood.

"Oh sweetheart." Miranda gathered her daughter once more into her arms, "I've missed you too."

Dinner in the Granger household was quiet. Other than the occasional "pass the salt" or "can I have some more vegetables, please" they did not utter a word. It wasn't that the atmosphere was charged, no, the atmosphere was in fact quite relaxing. It was simply how they did things at the Grangers. If one had nothing to say, then you didn't say it. Hermione had nothing to say, at least during dinner, and was simply enjoying what might be the last meal she would have with her mother and father. Why her parent's where silent, well, usually silence was all they could give, as a younger Hermione had always dominated the conversation, telling about some book or other that she read.

So, they each finished their meals in silence, and than helped clean up the table, do the dishes etc. A well practiced routine at the Granger's in both times. However, with the meal over, it was now time for Hermione's _important_ issue to be discussed.

"Mum, Dad" She looked at them both while standing in front of the leather couch that they where sitting on. Fingering her wand, she started with the background story to the dilemma.

"In December, 1927, a little boy by the name of Tom Riddle was born. His mother died in childbirth, and his father had no knowledge, nor the desire to know, that he existed. Therefore, baby Tom was sent to an orphanage, where he lived until he was old enough to support himself. At the age of eleven, the boy was then visited by a slightly dodgy old man, claiming to be a Professor Albus Dumbledore, and also claiming that both he, and Tom, where wizards, and that Tom was invited to attend the most prestigious school in Europe. So Tom went tot Hogwarts, and grew in to a fine young man, most likely one of the most brilliant young minds to ever walk those halls, a gentleman, and had the face of an angel to boot. And so, Tom Riddle had the world at his fingertips." She paused, trying to catch her breath, memories of said young Tom surfacing in her mind.

"That's all well and good dear, but what does this have to do with us?" Her father asked, taking initiative while Hermione paused in her speech.

"I'm getting to that, have patience" she replied, slightly glaring at the older man. He backed of, hands up in surrender, and once again leaned back into the couch, willing to listen to the rest of the story.

"Now, as I said, Tom had the world at his feet. He could have become the Minister of Magic, or a prominent researcher, or even a teacher. However, after being denied of the last job named, he disappeared off of the face of the earth, never to return again." Taking a breathe, and seeing that her father once more was going to ask his question, she quickly continued. "But, in his place returned Lord Voldemort, who, to this day, is at war with the wizarding world, or more particularly, the muggle-born witches and wizards." Now that she'd told them everything, seeing as her parent's never read the Daily Prophet, she could get to the root of the problem. However, with her mother's ever widening eyes, maybe the sickle was dropping faster than she expected.

"And once again" her father asked with slightly worried eyes, "what does this have to do with us?"

"Richard!" her mother exclaimed standing up, "Don't you see? Hermione is a muggle-born, which means you're in danger, doesn't it." Her mother was looking at her with wide eyes, sitting back down again in the meantime, while perhaps wishing for Hermione to contradict her, but also knowing that she wouldn't.

"Yes, we're in danger. However, I have the means to fight that danger, and you don't. That's why, for all of our safety and peace of mind, I need you to go into hiding." There. She'd laid down all her cards. Now it was all up to her parents.

"No!" Her father was livid, having stood up and was now pacing behind the couch, running his hand through his sandy hair. "I refuse to let you fight against this- this-, this Lord Voldynort, or whatever his name was. If we're going, you're coming with us, and that's final." He was glaring at her now, as if daring her to go against him, however, after surviving several years of Professor Snape's death glare, Hermione was unfazed and unyielding.

"Dad," she started off warningly, making him sit down. "My best friend is the only hope the wizarding world has of winning over the Dark Lord. I _need _to be there with him every step of the way, and do anything I can."

"No" her father's stance on this issue was obvious "We will not allow you to risk your life like that. You're too young to fight for Christ' sake!" Hermione, having heard enough of her father's opinions, looked to her mother. Seeing that the elder Granger woman agreed with her husband, albeit wistfully, as if knowing what Hermione was about to do, Hermione then continued, her resolve solid.

"You leave me with no choice." she said, not caring that tears where starting to pool in her eyes. "I need to keep you safe. I'm sorry." And before her parent's could utter another word, she whispered _obliviate, _and watched as their memories of her disappeared, their faces growing blank.

Hours later Hermione pushes her parent's-, no-, _strangers_, out the bright red door towards the yellow taxi, each with a large suitcase and a ticket to Australia, and towards their new lives as Rick and Mira Wilkins, dentist's taking an extended holiday. As her parent's aren't exactly poor, they'd have no problem in the economy department when it came to surviving during their _trip_.

Exiting the house shortly after the taxi had left, she started casting the wards around the house, protection and preservation spells etc. Proving that her light reading in the Hogwarts library hadn't been all a waste, Hermione also used a spell that conveniently made everyone forget about the house's existence, including banker's and such. Afterward's, she quickly apparated to the dentist office that her parent's worked at, and fixed her parent's vacation time. A simple _confundus_ charm fixed any problem's she might have had. Then, apparating back to the house, she cast one last spell, the _fidelius_ charm, making herself secret keeper.

Finally, taking one last bittersweet look at the house, her work here done, she did a slight twirl, and disappeared with a faint pop.

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><p><em>Like it? Hate it? Review's feed my temperamental muse, and make me write faster! Ciao! ^.^<em>


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